Saturday Morning Interruptions
by bebitched
Summary: There have to be some bosses that don't call you early on weekends to rescue them. Unfortunately for Jim, Michael isn't one of those. Jam set sometime in the near future.


Jim groaned, rolling over reluctantly and grabbing a hold of his still vibrating phone. He checked the caller ID, but the sleep still caught in his eyes lengthened his reaction time and by the time the name registered he'd already greeted the caller with a drowsy "hello?"

"Jimbo, Jimbalia, it's Michael here. Whazup?"

He smacked his own forehead and suppressed the expletives ready to rise from his throat.

"Who is it?" she questioned sleepily and more than a little annoyed beside him, her face half buried in his pillow and only one eye aimed at him. He quickly pressed a finger to his lips and silently shushed her.

"Who's that?" Michael sounded disbelieving and that was never good.

"No one," Jim assured, then realized that was the most suspicious response that existed. "Just my sister, Michael."

Pam nodded and rolled her eyes before giggling silently into the sheets at the typical Jim 'when did my life become a comedy sketch' expression.

"Your sister sounds hot." It was Jim's turn to roll his eyes.

"Is there something you wanted Michael?"

"What? Oh, right. Umm, no just wanted to see what you were up to."

Jim dead panned. "It's 8 AM on a Saturday morning." Realization dispersed into his eyes, "Did Jan lock you out again."

"No, I mean… yes. Can you come get me? My car keys are in the only pair of pants she didn't throw out the window."

Jim contemplated refusing, contemplated giving his two weeks notice right then and there. There had to be some bosses that didn't call you early on weekends to rescue them from their psycho girlfriend. But then Pam's hand inched up his leg and then his chest, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him down without even unburying her face from the crevice between pillows.

"Yeah, uh, can you give me, like, twenty minutes?" Jim could hear Michael sigh on the other end melodramatically, just as Pam was shaking her head and dragging him closer. "I mean forty minutes?"

She snaked her arm around to the back of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair, too short she thought, but it was getting longer.

"Fine. But can you bring doughnuts? Some with the rainbow sprinkles on top?"

"Yeah sure bye." Jim managed to strangle out, snapping his phone shut in one motion.

He slid down the bed from his previous sitting position, his fingertips finding the skin on her hip as she finally gravitated his face close enough to hers so as their noses were bumping lightly against one another's.

"Hi." She whispered, biting her bottom lip and smiling.

"Hi." He replied back, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes.

"We've got about thirty-eight minutes so you better get crackin' Halpert."

* * *

That Monday at work, as Michael leans across reception detailing the make-up sex that had already taken place by the time Jim had arrived, Jim glares him. Pam wishes she had some sort of invisible earflaps to put on whenever Michael came within shouting distance of her, nodding at regular intervals, but then she glances up and catches sight of Jim. Pam thinks that if he were any type of superhero, laser beams would be shooting out of his eyes and currently be frying their way somewhere into Michael's head.

It almost makes hearing Michael prattle on seem worth it.

Michael stands to full height finally, after recalling the make and model of handcuffs that had been in use. Apparently they'd gotten them from a law enforcement supply store because Jan didn't think the fuzzy ones were study enough and that was really so far beyond what Pam ever needed to know that her eyes hurt from squinting back at the line between appropriate amounts of information and not. He looks over and catches Jim's glare.

"What?" he says defensively.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking." Jim replied, his mouth curving down when he said 'nothing' in the way that she knew always meant something. Michael glances over his shoulder at Jim as he makes his way back at his office, just as the pencil in his hand snaps in three. He shuts the blinds and locks the door nervously.

Jim and Pam's eye lines meet and she giggles.

"So not funny." He claims, shaking his head disbelievingly at her.

She settles her face precariously into seriousness. "Of course not."

But he catches her smiling at her computer screen a few minutes later.

* * *

"Something weird is going on here. I mean Jim is all angry and Pam is… happy and everything is off in la-la land." Michael complains to the camera, arms crossed, genuine confusion and dismay playing across his features.

"Maybe they're alien clones." Dwight suggests thoughtfully from beside him. "Or maybe they're dati-"

"Just… shut it Dwight." He shields half of his face with one hand while spinning his finger around in a loop.

'Crazy' he mouths, laughing toward the camera, while Dwight shrugs.

* * *

"If I thought Pam and Jim were alien clones?" he ponders for a moment. "I would use my second perfected flying kick. And my throwing stars. Of course I would need to determine what species they were in order to figure the location of their vital organs." Then he smiles, self-assured with his abilities. "They wouldn't stand a chance." 


End file.
